How To Cope
by V. Sourweather
Summary: Hermione copes with the war in her own way, and Draco discovers it. [No romantic relationship; Rated T for swearing (at the end) and self-harm]


**Hello everyone! For this, I assumed there was an eighth year for students that were in their seventh year under Severus and the Carrows. I also assumed that Draco and Hermione (and Harry, Pansy, Ron, Daphne, Blaise and Theo) attended it.**

**You can see this story as a Dramione, or not.**

**Summary: Hermione copes with the war in her own way, and Draco discovers it.**

**Rating: T (it's not so soft this time)**

**Warnings: swearing (at the end) and self-harm**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling (characters, setting…) and nothing belongs to me (sadly). I don't make any money out of this story.**

**.:.**

**Written for:**

**\- the Opening Line Competition: first line - "With no choice but to work together, they would have to figure out how to get along or they would fail before they'd even begun."**

**\- the 50-prompts Hurt / Comfort Challenge: prompt - (scenario) being comforted by your enemy**

**\- the Headcanon Challenge: headcanon - Draco apologizes to Hermione Granger for how he treated her over the years and tries to make amends for it.**

**Word count: 1515 words**

* * *

_**How to Cope**_

With no choice but to work together, they would have to figure out how to get along or they would fail before they'd even begun. Draco and Hermione both knew it, and were both reluctant to be partners anyway.

Professor Slughorn had put them together for potion making for this class, and they had both tried their hardest to be placed with someone else. Anyone else, really.

When Draco risked a glance around them, he saw that they were not the only ones having problems cooperating. There were Potter and Pansy, who seemed to be on the verge of attacking each other, and Weasley and Daphne, who were staring at the wall rather than working together.

He focused on the potion again and asked Granger, in the most drawling voice he could muster, "Do you intend to actually work on this potion, or can we already leave the class?"

She glared at him and answered, "_I _am working. _You_ are spying on the others. Why, anyway? To help your friends if they decide to attack one of mine?"

"You are so irritable," he sighed and looked at the potion, which certainly didn't have the colour it was supposed to have. "Your work is _brilliant_, really, Granger," he said to make fun of her.

She didn't even bother to answer and pushed the ingredients towards him in one angry movement, and that's when he saw the scar on her collar, just where Bellatrix had pressed her knife at Manor Malfoy. It was a long, deep scar that ran through her collar and down on her chest, he guessed, and that was usually hidden by her bushy hair. He flinched away at the memories, remembering her screams when his aunt had used the Cruciatus Curse on her. He didn't even know she had decided not to heal the scar! He thought it had just disappeared, and instead it was there, just before his eyes!

She looked down and then seemed to remember what was there, and she readjusted her hair so that they could cover her neck. And then she said, "I was pretty sure seeing it wouldn't bother you."

"How is it still so… red?" he asked with genuine interest.

She didn't answer and asked the professor to leave instead. The man laughed a little, surprised, and said, "But, Miss Granger, this will result in a failure for this lesson."

"I know, Professor," she replied immediately.

She grabbed all her things and walked out of the classroom swiftly, and he didn't even know why, but he tried to follow her, until Potter intervened and threatened him, "If you hurt her, Malfoy…"

He just shook his head and walked out, followed by Potter's words, "Don't make me regret saving you!" He wouldn't, of that he was sure.

She had already disappeared when he turned into the next corridor, and he sighed. If he had to search the whole castle, he would, but he just couldn't let her go without an explanation.

* * *

The first place he searched was the girl's bathroom on the second floor. He thought she would go there, because he once did when he needed… well, a friend.

"Granger?" he called when he was just outside the door.

He heard a shuffling inside and smirked for himself. He knew she would be in there, though it probably wasn't because she needed a friend, because he had heard no voices echoing in the empty corridors.

"I'm coming in," he informed her, and opened the door.

The first thing he saw was her things, scattered on the floor, and the second one was her, sitting on the floor, leaning against a closed door, her eyes closed. She wasn't crying though, she was just taking deep breaths that seemed a little ragged.

"Why did you follow me?" she asked, not bothering to even open her eyes.

"I want an answer," he demanded, and she sighed. "And I don't want to have to ask it in the Great Hall, in front of everyone."

She half-smiled and replied, "Yes, I wouldn't have liked it either." But she didn't add anything else, and he sat down beside her.

"I decided not to heal it," she finally sighed. "Some have seen worse. Lavender…" She trailed off.

He remembered seeing Brown. She was completely ravaged by horrible scars, but even he had to admit that what made her beautiful hadn't disappeared with the attack. On the contrary, it was there more than ever, now that she bore her scars with confidence. She really resembled a lioness now, and he remembered a time when Granger was just the same. But not anymore. No, she was calmer now.

"I didn't ask why you still have it, Granger," he finally declared. "I asked how it could still be so red."

"I know what you asked, Malfoy. And if you think I'm going to answer _that_…"

He shrugged, and stayed silent. He didn't know why he stayed by her side like this. She wasn't going to answer him anyway. But then he heard a distant giggle and remembered his sixth year, when he used to come here to just _share_ the things that weighed him down.

"I'm sorry," he finally muttered, and he had almost spit out the words, but at least, it was said.

She turned towards him and let out a sardonic laugh. "You want me to think _you_ are sorry for _me_?" she asked derisively.

"Believe me or not, I don't really care. But that's why I come here. To say the things that weigh me down. So here it is. An apology. Take it or leave it, I don't care."

She looked at him, and there was a crease between her eyebrow, and finally, she nodded and asked, "What are you sorry for, exactly? For the way you've treated me all these years, or for what your aunt did to me?"

"Both… but what Bellatrix did to you…" he trailed off, trying to shut off the memories that were already coming back to him.

"You must have seen it before, so why did it make you feel uncomfortable this time?"

"Because I knew you. I hated you – I still do, by the way, don't mistake this for an attempt at a friendship (she laughed at this) – but I _knew_ you. I didn't know the others. And I couldn't feel sorry for someone who was dead."

"You can now?" she asked him, and it was genuine interest he heard in her voice, so he decided to answer honestly.

"If I didn't, I'd be a monster."

They both fell silent, and it wasn't uncomfortable. She finally muttered a few more words. "My friends… They don't understand. They try to _be there_ for me, but…"

"It's not enough," he completed. "Yeah, I know that feeling too. My friends are just the same."

There it was again – the silence. But this time, he felt at peace. Being with someone who actually understood him was like a balm on his tortured soul. And he didn't know how much he needed it until he actually had it.

* * *

For the rest of the year, they would come in that bathroom and talk when they needed to. These were peaceful conversations that were the exact opposite of those they had publicly.

And in the last week of the year, during one of those secret meetings (not so secret, because Blaise and Theo were always wondering where he went), she finally told him her secret. She explained why her scar was still raw after all these months.

"Promise me not to get angry, Malfoy," she asked him, and he frowned and nodded, but didn't voice any promise. And she went on, "The scar. You were wondering why it was still so… red. Why it _is_ still so red." He didn't say anything and let her continue when she wanted to. "I do it again. It's my way to cope, and I probably won't stop, whatever you say, so –"

He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. He scolded her, "That's a _stupid_ way to cope. You're a fucking Gryffindor, Granger, so act like it. Even the Weasley twin – George – is coping better than you from what I have seen."

She glared at him and argued that he had promised her not to get angry, but he immediately replied, "I didn't promise anything. It's you who interpreted it as a promise. Not my fault." He paused and then looked straight into her eyes and said (perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary), "Promise me you'll never do that again, Granger."

She stayed silent and when he understood she wasn't going to, he stood up and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Fuck…" he grunted. "I didn't know you were _that_ stupid."

He left, and when he saw her next, her bushy hair was in a ponytail that left her collar (her _bare_ collar) exposed. And he smiled a little. They weren't friends (the word had never been pronounced between them), but there was something between them, and it was _good_.

* * *

**Well… I hope you liked this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it! :)**


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